


Bad Assumptions Courtesy of Jean Havoc

by Ijustwannaread



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ijustwannaread/pseuds/Ijustwannaread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Havoc is not pleased with the idea of a mysteriously young new State Alchemist, and then he really, really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Assumptions Courtesy of Jean Havoc

**Author's Note:**

> I am just way too into the outsider point of view thing, and Havoc seemed like just the character to play around with.  
> Just a short thing I wrote for my sister, basically.

Jean Havoc had only been Colonel Mustang’s subordinate for a couple of months before he realized the kind of man that he had been assigned to. Roy Mustang wasn’t an open book by a long shot, but there were some aspects of his character that a man would have to be reasonably stupid not to infer. Jean Havoc figured himself to be reasonably intelligent, and therefore understood that his commanding officer was not only a conniving bastard, but he was an ambitious conniving bastard. Mustang wanted his rise in the military to be meteoric, and he knew that it took luck, smarts, and a bit of good-natured ass-kissing to become Fuhrer. 

Ask anyone, though; Havoc had no problem with Mustang. No, he respected him. Quite a bit, actually. If there was anyone he wanted to see at the top of the totem pole, it was Mustang. The problem was, Havoc thought, he wasn’t made of the same stuff that Mustang was. He was raised to believe in the power of hard work. Period. He didn’t think of his military career as a game of chess like Mustang did. He liked to think he was helping his country in any way that he could. He valued loyalty, honesty, and simplicity. 

So when Mustang told Havoc that he was going out all the way to the deep countryside on an assignment to find a supposedly brilliant alchemist, Havoc thought he was justified in being suspicious. Sure, he grew up in the boondocks, but Resembool’s isolation put his hometown to shame. Mustang could only justify taking such a tedious trip if he thought that it would reflect well on him to have discovered new resources for the dwindling State Alchemist position. 

That trip had long since come and passed without any indication of success from either Mustang or Hawkeye, and was easily forgotten. That is to say, until Mustang crawled out of his office for long enough to announce that they were to welcome a teenage boy who was apparently a precocious enough alchemist to be considered as a State Alchemist at Central Command. That was when Havoc felt justifiably pissed off. 

Havoc couldn’t understand how in the world Mustang’s usually passable moral compass just decided to get stuck pointing south instead of north. He and Breda exchanged conspiratorially incredulous glances at each other. Falman looked pointedly at the ground, refusing to make any indication of his opinion, which annoyed Havoc slightly. He watched Hawkeye until both she and Mustang swept out of the room to greet his new protégée. Normally, he could recognize certain tells in her attitude towards Mustang when she disagreed with him. No dice. 

So Mustang was going to push a young alchemist the most hated position in the Amestrian military so he would have something to brag to his superiors about at milit ary balls. He could schmooze his way right into a promotion. 

It was in the middle of his envisioning Mustang talking up the entirety of the higher ups in Eastern Command that Havoc paused to imagine what exactly this “incredibly gifted alchemist” would be like. 

“Hey, do you think this alchemist kid is going to be like a clone of Mustang?” He jokingly asked Breda to break the silence in the wake of his commanding officer’s departure. Breda breathed out a laugh.

“He’s gonna be something,” he replied. Havoc was already picturing it. A mini Flame Alchemist, following Mustang like a star struck puppy dog with an ego. He was exactly zero percent amused at the prospect, but he shared nervous laughs with Falman and Breda as they discussed the new addition to Mustang’s circle. 

They waited with barely concealed anticipation for news of the kid for the rest of the week. Mustang was being aggravatingly reserved in sharing news about the outcome of the test, but word spread in the halls like wildfire. 

People were saying that the Fuhrer himself had showed up, and that the brat had almost accidentally beheaded him with his wild shows of alchemic skill. Havoc had asked Mustang about it, offhandedly, and the colonel had only laughed at his question in the most obnoxiously unclear manner that it had made Havoc want to punch him in the face, unerring loyalty be damned. 

Understandably, tensions were running high when Mustang finally brought the kid in to fill out the paperwork to become an official dog of the military. No one tried to disguise the fact that the sound of paper work being done ground to a halt the moment that the door opened and the sound of uneven footsteps rang through the high ceilings. 

Havoc immediately kissed his imagined version of the kid goodbye, without a hint of disappointment. Physically, this kid was Mustang’s polar opposite. The first thing Havoc noticed, without a doubt, was how short he was. It was the kind of short that hit him right in the gut when he tried to connect this kid’s youth with his new position of major, which technically outranked him. The kid’s gold hair and eyes were what he next noticed, as the exotic the combination struck him suddenly. Finally, Havoc noted with a regained sense of levity just how ridiculously the boy was dressed. His jet-black jacket and heavy boots were so tough and gothic that they clashed laughably with his stature. 

His time for observation was cut short, as Mustang quickly lead the kid into his office without any further words. Hawkeye settled back down at her desk, and was immediately as absorbed in her work as if the most entertaining thing to happen to their office wasn’t just taking place. So typical, Havoc thought fondly. 

“That kid’s supposed to be a State Alchemist now, huh?” Breda declared, fighting off incredulous chuckles. Havoc couldn’t quite join in, as he was still too lost in trying to figure out exactly what madness had descended upon his commanding officers. Hawkeye cast Breda a glance so withering that Havoc figured could it could cause lesser men to lose control of their bladders, and shifted in her seat so that the metal of her gun glinted in the afternoon light. All the men in the room felt their throats go dry. 

So Hawkeye was on board then. The world had actually gone mad. 

Ten minutes before the end of the workday, the door to Mustang’s office reopened, and the jet-black combat boots once again clomped their way across the threshold. 

“Men, I’d like to introduce you to Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. Fullmetal, this is First Lieutenant Havoc, Second Lieutenant Breda, and Warrant Officer Falman.” Mustang announced with a sense of pompousness that made Havoc want to roll his eyes. “I’m sure that none of you mind staying a bit longer to acquaint Fullmetal with which paperwork he’ll need for the future, right?” Mustang asked cheerfully. Havoc was still reeling from attempting to accept the absurdity of the small child in front of him being referred to as metal-anything in his official name when it dawned on him that Mustang was going to make him work late and update his new lapdog on protocol. Perfect.

“Hell no!” Edward protested. “I just spent like two hours today going over stupid paperwork! I’m catching a train tonight to get me out of here. I got my State Alchemist silver and I’m gonna go use it,” he said, somehow leaving no room for argument. Havoc didn’t think he’d ever held his breath for longer in his life waiting for Mustang to react. He pictured the entire room engulfed in flames of uncontrollable rage.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, then?” Mustang countered, before unceremoniously chucking the State Alchemist watch at Fullmetal. Edward caught it, but barely, cursing under his breath. 

“Later.” Edward awkwardly said to the room’s occupants in general, and glanced over the new faces, his gaze lingering on Hawkeye. 

“Watch out for yourself, Edward.” She said simply. 

“Hey, we owe you one for the paperwork, Boss.” Havoc called to the kid as he turned away. Edward Elric paused long enough to smirk at him and Havoc was suddenly entirely certain that he was missing a huge part of this messed up story. And he was completely okay with that.


End file.
